On A Couch in Paris
by Gun Brooke
Summary: Paris. Fashion week. Miranda's life is falling to pieces around her. On top of everything else, Andrea turns out to be secretly involved in extracurricular activities that has nothing to do with Runway, and everything to do with Miranda.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or original storyline of The Devil Wears Prada. I only use the basics to play. A lot.

Rating: G—NC-17, depending on chapter. Not going to specify each one.

Pairing: Andy/Miranda (MirAndy)

Summary: Paris. Fashion week. Miranda's life is falling to pieces around her. On top of everything else, Andrea turns out to be secretly involved in extracurricular activities that has nothing to do with Runway, and everything to do with Miranda.

A/N: No need to email me with copies of the original film manuscript as I know I've taken liberties with the 'Miranda in a grey robe opening up to Andy' scene. Some of the conversation is canon, but most of it is not, and it is a blend. A mix, if you will. Some might say, a royal mess.

On A Couch in Paris

A MirAndy fan fiction

By Gun Brooke

Miranda knew her husband was a drunken, disgruntled coward. She knew that even before he sent the divorce documents with overnight delivery to her hotel room. In Paris. During fashion week. Stephen new after having been married to her for several years that this was her most important week every year. So, not only a coward, but devious and manipulative to the very last. She had read through the document and the fact that he wanted some of her money, a rather large part as a matter of fact, was not surprising. He was a successful lawyer, or he was, before his drinking became a problem with his partners at the firm. She pulled up her upper lip in a snarls. Stephen was in for a cold awakening when she got home. He would not get a cent.

Miranda sighed and pulled her legs up, covering them with her grey, silk robe. She had taken a shower, let her hair air dry and was about to take a nap when the FedEx messenger knocked on her door. Now she cursed and blessed the fact that she'd listened to Donatella Versace and hired a private investigator months ago. Stephen had not been as discreet as he thought. He had not only one, but two, affairs during the last two months, both of them clients of his. What an idiot. Especially since one of them were the wife of a very influential politician in New York. This also meant that the prenuptial agreement they'd signed were in effect. No money for Stephen.

Sighing, Miranda covered her eyes with her hand. The worst thing was her girls. The media posse would start as soon as they got wind of the divorce, and even if Miranda was unbreakable when it came to gossip about her, the girls, her eleven year old twins, were her Achilles heel. One word of them in the papers, or if any of the paparazzi took as much as one picture of them, there'd be hell to pay. She would go after them with everything she had—and that was a lot. So far, the press seemed to realize this, even the worst tabloids steered clear of Cassidy and Caroline.

This wouldn't take away the heartache of witnessing the divorce, to see Stephen moving out, and she knew the girls worried about her. They were extremely protective.

Suddenly Miranda saw movement out of the corner of her eyes and flinched. Andrea.

"Ah, there you are." Miranda pushed self-consciously at her hair. "We need to go over the…seating arrangement…chart." She could see Andrea's eyes widening at her stuttering. Trying to pull herself together, Miranda extended her hand as Andrea rummaged through her bag. It took the girl forever to find the chart. "Oh, do move at a glacial pace. You know how that thrills me."

Andrea handed her the folder and Miranda opened it, putting on her reading glasses. "We need to move Snoop Dog to my table."

"But, you're table is full." Andrea frowned, looking down at her note pad.

"Stephen's not coming."

"Oh, he's not? So I don't need to fetch him at the airport?"

"Not unless you talk to him and he has decided to rethink the divorce." Miranda knew her voice was as acerbic as it was humanly possible. "You're very fetching, so in that case, go fetch."

"Miranda?" Andrea looked at her with sorrowful eyes. She had such large, expressive eyes. Miranda wondered if Andrea knew how close to the surface her feelings and thoughts were if you took the time to look into her eyes. "I'm so sorry, Miranda," Andrea continued.

"We have to contact Leslie. Minimize the press at least until I get back to the States." Miranda rubbed her temple. "I don't really care what they write about me, but…the girls. It's so unfair to the girls. It's not the first time they go through this, but they are older now and know more, can read newspapers."

"I understand that you worry for them, but they are strong kids. You've clearly set a good example for them that way. They're always nice to me, these days." Andrea stopped talking, looking like she regretted her words.

"You talk to my girls? You know them? And what do you mean, these days?"

"Uhm. Yeah, they kind of sneak out sometimes when I deliver the book and we exchange a few words. I'm not supposed to tell you this." Andrea made a wry face. "Please don't let them know I told you."

"What do you talk about?" Miranda couldn't believe what she was hearing. What on earth could her highly intelligent daughters have to discuss with her assistant?

"You, mainly. They ask pretty specific questions, and they ask advice. I would never interfere with your parenting, or go against anything you teach your daughters. I promise. But I also know how much I relied on having other adults in my life when I was that age. I thought if they turn to me, there is less of a risk they might turn to the wrong person." Fidgeting with her pen, Andrea looked cautiously at Miranda.

"Come here," Miranda said, without thinking. "Sit here and tell me exactly what you've talked with my children about." She could tell Andrea swallowed nervously, but she put her pad down and joined Miranda on the couch.

"They worry about you." Andrea unknowingly echoed Miranda's thoughts from only moments ago. "They ask if you ate lunch, and if you did, what you ate. They want to know if Stephen is calling to, and I quote 'yell at you again', at work. Cassidy especially wants to know which mood you are in when you come to work. I try to answer as truthfully I can and keep it age appropriate."

"What do you mean?" Miranda sat up, feeling her hands tremble. She hid them in the folds of her robe.

"There are times when you have told me to hold all your calls and when Stephen calls at such times, he gets very…uhm…loud. With offensive language." Turning pink, Andrea lowered her eyes. "I choose not to relay it verbatim since I believe you get the point that he's ticked off anyway."

"God." Miranda hid her face in her hands. "So, you talk to my children, you act as a buffer between my soon-to-be ex-husband, and…pray tell, what else do you do that I don't know?"

Andrea looked like she wished she for a hatch to open where she sat so she could escape instantly. Miranda didn't take her eyes off her assistant, and again, she drank in her lovely features, her perfect size four figure, and inhaled the fruity-vanilla scent that was so refreshing after all the heavy perfumes she'd been subjected to in Paris.

"Well?" Miranda raised her eyebrow.

"I—I…I can't say, Miranda. Please, don't make me." Andrea pleaded and—to Miranda's utter shock—took her hand and squeezed it lightly. "It's so personal."

"What. Do. You. Do?" Straightening, Miranda tried to disregard the fact that she was dressed only in her robe, and wearing no makeup. No mask. Surely she could channel La Priestly anyway?

"I don't know how to tell you without you misunderstanding. It sounds totally nuts."

"I won't repeat myself. Tell me or—"

"Okay, okay." Looking defeated and miserable, Andrea sighed. "I do a vlog where I talk to you. I post it to my YouTube account, but I keep all the links private to make sure neither of our privacy is violated."

Whatever Miranda had thought Andrea would say, this was not it. A vlog? "Do tell me more. You talk to a DV-camera and pretend it's me?" That did sound very odd.

"Yes. I find I reach the answers I need so much faster when I pretend to talk to you."

"Show me one of these vlogs." Miranda pointed at her laptop sitting on the coffee table. "Pull it up. Now."

Andrea swallowed hard. "Oh, God."

"Why not start from the beginning? Pull up the first one you made and then we will watch them in chronological order. Together." Miranda spoke sternly and drummed her fingertips against the armrest of the couch. Andrea had reached for the laptop with slow movements, as if she wanted to delay showing Miranda the vlogs for as long as possible. Eventually she had booted the laptop and was logging in to YouTube. Miranda was familiar with the site since her daughters often wanted to show her 'cute clips' of animals, babies, and artists. She never would've guessed that Andrea had her own channel, even if it was for her own eyes only.

"Nothing I can say to change your mind?" Andrea asked, her voice trembling.

"Not a thing. Show me the first clip."

"All right. Here it is." Andrea scrolled among what looked like thumb nails to several other clips. "It's called 'How to survive the elevator experience."

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**To be continued in part 2**

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	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or original storyline of The Devil Wears Prada. I only use the basics to play. A lot.

Rating: G—NC-17, depending on chapter. Not going to specify each one.

Pairing: Andy/Miranda (MirAndy)

Summary: Paris. Fashion week. Miranda's life is falling to pieces around her. On top of everything else, Andrea turns out to be secretly involved in extracurricular activities that has nothing to do with Runway, and everything to do with Miranda.

A/N: No need to email me with copies of the original film manuscript as I know I've taken liberties with the 'Miranda in a grey robe opening up to Andy' scene. Some of the conversation is canon, but m"ost of it is not, and it is a blend. A mix, if you will. Some might say, a royal mess.

On A Couch in Paris

A MirAndy fan fiction

By Gun Brooke

Part 2

The laptop showed a small window of Andrea retaking her seat and straightening her clothes after turning on the DV-camera.

"Do full screen mode," Miranda said curtly.

"Okay." Andrea's fingers trembled visibly as she tapped the touch pad. Now Andrea's lovely face filled the entire fifteen inch screen.

"_Hi, there," _on screen Andrea said, taking a deep breath. _"This feels strange, talking to you via the camera, and even if I know you'll never see this, I'm till apprehensive. I've made sure that the privacy setting is on its highest on my YouTube account. Once I upload the video clip there, I'll delete it off my laptop—that will be my insurance that it won't fall into the wrong hands. My password and username are very elaborate and safe too. Should be fine." Andrea shifted. "I'm not sure how this idea is going to pan out, but I really need to be able to do my job well. I have a feeling that things are going south for me and Nate, my boyfriend, so I might be fending for myself completely soon, which means a paycheck every month is a must. _

_Seems Nate is checking out his options. Just a hunch. He hates my job, my hours. He hates you. He hates that you call me all the time. Lots of hate, and very little room for love." Andrea wiped at what had to be tears and straightened her back._

"_Anyway, that wasn't going to be the topic for this clip. I have come across a damn near impossible new task of sorts at work and I really need to discuss that with you." She leaned forward and looked imploringly into the camera. "What's this idea about bringing me along in the elevators? You _hate_ having company in the elevator and still you do that little chin-jerk that means 'get in, you idiot'…or at least that's how it feels. I end up having to force myself not to press into a corner to really give you your space. I don't know if I should talk, let alone what to talk about. You sometimes regard me with this questioning look and it drives me crazy. Really. No exaggeration. C-r-a-z-y."_

_Andrea pushed her hair behind her ears. "I thought I'd try some stuff out here." She closed her eyes briefly and when she opened them again, she gave a broad, sparkling smile._

Miranda gasped. That smile. Blinding.

"_How are the girls, Miranda?" Andrea said, looking genuinely interested. "They were so concerned when Page Six wrote about that idiot husband of yours. Was he really that inconsiderate to you, making a scene at Pastis? Surely, him pushing chairs hard enough to make them fall over, was the gossip column's way of embellishing, right? The girls were so upset, and ready to shoot him at dawn."_

"It was true, wasn't it?" Andrea murmured next to Miranda, pausing the clip. "He really was that kind of a moron?"

"Yes." Miranda gazed at Andrea. "I never knew you were uncomfortable riding in elevators with me."

"Oh, I was."

Was? Miranda blinked. As in past tense? She motioned for Andrea to resume playing the clip.

"_I wonder if such a conversation would get me fired? Probably. I guess, one of the reasons I'm so on edge in the elevator is that your presence is so damn formidable…and there is no escape. No way out until the elevator stops. No matter how few floors we are descending or ascending, my mind always has time to play with scenarios." Was Andrea blushing or was there something wrong with the camera? She fidgeted, but looked into the lens and kept going. "A favorite one, which really bothers me the most because I'd be mortified if you ever found out, is 'what if the elevator gets stuck between two floors?'" Andrea tugged at her hair. "What would I do then? I mean after the initials calls made with the emergency phone, what would happen? What if I couldn't control myself?"_

Miranda trembled. What on earth was Andrea talking about, 'control herself'? She glanced at the blushing woman next to her. "You're being very candid."

"Easy enough when you think this will never see the light of day," Andrea murmured. "Trust me, it gets…worse."

"_There are days when it actually hurts physically to be in too close proximity." Andrea pressed her fingertips to her lips. "You smell so wonderful, you are the most stunning woman I have ever seen, and you look at me with such annoyance most of the time, it's painful. What I wouldn't give to just once be able to touch you without fearing that my life and I know it will be over." Andrea scooted closer to the camera, her shoulders and head filling most of the screen. She looked pale now, rather than flustered._

"_I have worked for you for five months now, or there about. I have learned so much and continue to do so on a daily basis. Now, not the work per se, I mean, fetching coffee and running errands…that's the easy part. I learn from observing you, watch you carry out a job that you do better than anybody else. I…I do this, every day. I ride the elevators, trying to not become one with the wall. I do this and then at the end of our workday, you go home to your moron hubby who clearly don't appreciate you and the two little girls who obviously do, and I…I'm alone to ponder why the hell it's so damn hard to ride elevators with you."_

_Andrea looked into the camera, tilting her head to the left. "Maybe I'm making it harder than it has to be. Perhaps, if I really dug deep for courage, I'd dare tell you that I think you're beautiful. That you are the most brilliant woman I know of. You just seem so withdrawn sometimes, it worries me. I know. I know. Don't bite my freakin' head off. You're very private. You display your Runway persona and keep everybody guessing about the rest. If I wasn't privy to those elevator rides, where I could sort of study you, I wouldn't know you any better than the rest of the staff at Runway." Suddenly Andrea sat ramrod straight and her eyes widened. "God! Why haven't I thought of that before? Why don't you ever take Emily or any of the other ones here, even Nigel, who is kind of close to you, on the elevator? Why me? And why do you so often practically nail me to the wall with your eyes? Anybody ever tell you that your eyes are your main weapon when you terrify and intimidate?"_

Miranda tapped the touchpad, pausing the video. "Don't expect me to answer this." She glared at Andrea who sat just as straight on the couch as she did on the screen. "My reasons are my own."

"Uhm. Don't forget that you were never meant to see any of this," Andrea murmured, looking pale. "I mean. I don't expect you to answer anything. I'm pretty certain that I'm fired…if not yet, then soon."

"What? Why?" Miranda narrowed her eyes deliberately. Pleased at how this made Andrea flinch, she waited for her reply.

"If you think this is bad, I'm not going to get any less outspoken."

"Oh, God…" Miranda sighed. "How much longer of this clip?"

"About half a minute. You don't have to—"

"We are going to watch them all. Don't make me repeat that."

"Right." Andrea slumped back and looked at the laptop through her bangs.

Miranda clicked to resume the video.

_So, from now on, I'll make a vow to say at least one thing, not small talk, but something outside of Runway, whenever we're in the elevator. I'll be damned if I'm going to let you turn me into a total wimp. I want to know more of you. I want to talk to you, so I will." Drawing a trembling breath, Andrea bit her lower lip. "Maybe one of these days I'll be able to speak without worrying so much. That would be worth…just about any risk whatsoever." She smiled and gave a funny little wave. "'Bye."_

The screen turned black and then small thumbnails of other clips appeared. Miranda felt rather shell shocked, but she knew how to not let that show. This was posted in June. That was when Andrea had ben piping up in the elevator. Miranda hadn't made the connection until now. One day out of the blue, her lovely assistant had smiled broadly and asked Miranda what she thought of Patricia's, her St. Bernard, new doggie bed. Stunned at the unexpected topic, as Miranda had forgotten all about telling Andrea to update all of her dog's equipment and toys. They had actually spoken amicably about the dog.

"We talked about Patricia." Miranda turned and cupped Andrea's chin, forcing her to meet her gaze directly and not through her bangs, or her eyelashes that was sometimes her habit.

"Yes. The very next day." Andrea licked her lips. "I found that addressing 'you' on the camera helped strengthen my courage."

"So this is how you have approached the subject of…of…"

"Of you."

"Yes. Well. All the videos? Like this?"

Andrea suddenly blushed furiously. "Uhm. Sort of. Or not. Not entirely. I mean. No. Not all. A couple I would rather delete than let you watch."

This peaked Miranda's interest even more. She could feel Andrea's warmth through her robe, and when Andrea mentioned the videos she'd prefer to delete, tiny beads of sweat pearled at her temples. Miranda was certain that if there were any videos she needed to watch, those were it.

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**To be continued in part 3**

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	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or original storyline of The Devil Wears Prada. I only use the basics to play. A lot.

Rating: G—NC-17, depending on chapter. Not going to specify each one.

Pairing: Andy/Miranda (MirAndy)

Summary: Paris. Fashion week. Miranda's life is falling to pieces around her. On top of everything else, Andrea turns out to be secretly involved in extracurricular activities that has nothing to do with Runway, and everything to do with Miranda.

A/N: No need to email me with copies of the original film manuscript as I know I've taken liberties with the 'Miranda in a grey robe opening up to Andy' scene. Some of the conversation is canon, but most of it is not, and it is a blend. A mix, if you will. Some might say, a royal mess.

On A Couch in Paris

A MirAndy fan fiction

By Gun Brooke

Part 3

"We should order some room service. I don't know about you, but I want coffee." Miranda stood, stretching by pushing both hands at her lower back. Turning to Andrea, she faltered for a moment at Andrea's parted lips and wide eyes. "Andrea?"

"C-coffee. Right. On it. Want something to eat?" Andrea reached for the phone.

"Yes. Caesar salad with chicken. Pellegrino." Miranda walked into her bedroom as Andrea placed the order. She was still reeling from having watched her assistant address 'her' in such a blatant, outspoken manner. The way she had looked into the camera with those huge, dark eyes. Smoldering. Yes, those eyes were smoldering. A sudden vision of a tousled Andrea locking those eyes on Miranda, hovering above her… Gasping, Miranda cut off the startlingly erotic image. She realized that she was indeed naked under her robe and knew she needed more than one layer of fabric between herself and Andrea. She pulled out some light blue and white leisure wear and changed, her hands not entirely steady as she adjusted the off-the-shoulder neckline.

Returning to the living room area, she stopped in her tracks at the sight of Andrea. The young woman was leaning back against the backrest, both hands covering her face. She was muttering something inaudible.

"Praying to nameless deities?" Miranda sat down next to her.

"What?" Andrea jerked and lowered her hands. "Oh. No. Well, maybe sort of."

"Your sentences are as concise as usual." Miranda half turned, resting her elbow on the backrest and her head in her hand. "So, did you erase the 'worst ones' while I changed?"

"I should have. Really, I should. I just couldn't." Andrea sighed, tugging at her hair. "I…spent a lot of time on this videos and I guess they were a way for me to, I don't know, examine my own feelings, my motives. I can't just erase all these moments of…you know, truth. Self-discovery."

Intrigued, Miranda motioned with her free hand at the laptop. "I want to see another one. What other titles have you to offer me?" She was intrigued, and strangely anxious, about what Andrea might have recorded, and like a moth to a flame, she couldn't resist watching.

"I can just let you have at it and go back to my room," Andrea said, looking hopeful.

"Not so fast." Miranda held up her hand, palm toward Andrea. "Surely you must realize that I might have follow-up questions."

"Follow-up…?" Andrea's mouth fell open. "You make it sound like a meeting at the fu—damn office." She pushed at the couch as if to get up.

"Stop." She grabbed Andrea's wrist firmly. "Calm down." She scooted closer, sliding her hand up Andrea's arm, cupping her elbow. "How you can possibly get it in your head that I think this is like a day at the office, I have no idea. I do not consider this…this unforeseen course of action on your part anything but—extraordinary."

"Wow." Andrea seemed to lean in to the touch and Miranda was grateful for having changed clothes as her body responded in a most unexpected, quite obvious way. At least the fabric in her sweater was thick enough to hide her hardening nipples. She wasn't quite clear about why she wasn't more shocked at her physical response to touching Andrea's arm.

"So, which one would you like to show me next?" Miranda removed her hand, immediately missing the sensation of silky soft skin under her fingertips.

"_Want_ to?" Andrea laughed, shaking her head. "Uhm. Let's see." She scrolled among the thumbnails. "Oh, hell, why not. This one is called '_The Candid Touches_'."

Miranda flinched. "What?"

"There's a saying, you know, 'be careful what you wish for' and so on. You might say this would fit in. You asked. I'm showing." Andrea's eyes sparkled and nervous energy radiated off her in waves.

"So I did. Play it." Lowering her head to hide it, Miranda swallowed against the onset of her own nerves. Candid touches. Goodness. She might regret this.

Andrea started the clip and Miranda didn't have to remind her to set it to full screen mode. She didn't recognize the wall behind Andrea, but soon she could tell that Andrea was on a bed in a small bedroom, wearing an oversized t-shirt. Her hair was tousled, much like in her sudden vision earlier, and she was…oh, dear Lord…she was licking and sucking what looked like a strawberry popsicle.

"_I just don't get it," on screen Andrea said thoughtfully, "I mean I don't understand exactly when things changed. You used to let me place the coffee on the desk, but no, not anymore. You reach for it. I start to fucking tremble like an idiot, so sure I'll spill on your thousand dollar blouse, and then you slowly slide your fingers over mine when you accept the mug. You should really give me a raise for all the clothes I've saved by pretending I have nerves of steel." She licked slowly at the popsicle. _

"_I began observing Emily to see how she handles it, and that's when I noticed, you don't do that with her. You don't take mugs directly from her hand. Ever. Huh." Andrea tilted her head and gazed into the camera. "Now that's curious." She gestured pointedly with the popsicle before sticking it back into her mouth._

Miranda came close to whimpering. Did the girl have to run her tongue over the damn popsicle and look into the camera, at her, with such smoldering eyes? Seriously?

"_Then a while ago, there was another change. Whenever we walk through any sort of crowd together, whether at functions, balls, through stores, anywhere, you place your hand at the small of my back. Very gently, and at first it just sat there, very still. Then, and this shocked the Jimmy Choo's right off my feet, when you had guided me through a bunch of people outside Pastis, you kept your hand at my back while we waited for Roy. That wasn't all. You started moving it in small circles, like _caressing_ me, or something. What the hell…I was like struck by lightning. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't move. Hell, I didn't want to move!" Andrea gestured emphatically. "I somehow don't think you were entirely aware, but I certainly was. I thought it was a onetime thing, but it kept happening. Not always, but enough times, and increasingly often." _

"Pause it," Miranda said, appalled at how throaty her voice sounded. "I—I had no idea."

"I figured." Andrea patted Miranda's knee and then yanked her hand back. "God! See? You have me doing it? I'd never be the one to break any of the Golden Rules."

"What? What Golden Rules?" Miranda frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"Golden rules for your assistants. Don't ask questions. Don't touch. Don't make her repeat herself. You know, stu—things, like that."

"Ah. Yes. I've heard of those rules. You do realize that they were put in place by assistants in the past, not me personally."

"Oh, I bet they're there for a reason. Survival techniques thought out by smart assistants."

"Consider yourself exempt from these 'rules' from now on." Miranda studied Andrea's expression, which went from questioning to shocked in two seconds flat.

"R-really?"

"Yes. Resume playing the clip." Miranda felt her cheeks warm and she refused to let it get to her, but that also meant she couldn't look Andrea in the eyes just now.

"Oh, damn. Okay."

"_I found myself looking forward to the occasions when the touch of your hand against my back is possible." Andrea smiled shyly. "I mean, it's innocent, right? I'm not sure why a mere touch to the small of my back can make me feel so happy. It also makes my skin tingle all over, so naturally that has once against raised the question as to my sexual orientation."_

Andrea moaned and covered her eyes where she sat next to Miranda. "God."

Miranda found no air. Heat suffused her skin and her lungs were burning from lack of oxygen before she realized she'd stopped breathing. She took a deep, cleansing breath, but she still trembled at Andrea's words.

"_Nate always liked, in theory, that I tend to check out girls more than boys. He used to be the exception to the rule, and now when he's withdrawing, and doing nothing but criticizing everything I do, or don't do, it's like I'm drifting toward the only-attracted-to-females part….the female in question being you. Yes. There it is. Out in the open. Boy, that must be the last thing you want to hear from an assistant. I see you rationalize it as a fan-girl thing, a crush on an older, more powerful woman, and even if that is true in part, since I do admire so much about you, it doesn't explain everything."_

_Andrea finished the popsicle and chewed on the stick. "I wish I could express just how this became different." A small tear dislodged from her impossibly long lashes and ran down her cheek. "I also wish this was real. That I could tell you. Impossible. I just know how you'd freak out and then fire me. Oh, God." On-screen-Andrea lowered her head and stopped talking for a while._

"I'm sorry, but you did ask to see this, Miranda," Andrea said quietly.

"So I did. I had no idea…I mean, I could never have guessed,"

"That you'd be confronted by an unwanted truth? I can imagine."

Miranda tapped the touchpad to pause the video. "Is this a continuous thing?"

"What? What thing?"

"The attraction? I want to know. What happened to the cook?"

"Nate? He said he'd move out while I was in Paris since I'd made pretty clear who's phone calls I' d always take, no matter what." Andrea smiled faintly. "He could be so obtuse sometimes, but he got that part right."

Miranda nodded curtly and resumed the clip.

"_This whole talk makes me wonder what you're feeling, Miranda." Andrea sighed and leaned sideways a little on her bed. "You never do anything you don't want to, right? That would mean…you want to touch me, or you need the connection, or something? I…I know you're married. Sure, married to a complete fool, but still—you're married. This is hard." Andrea sighed and pulled her legs up._

Miranda gasped out loud before she could stop herself. Andrea's naked legs in full view, and a hint that she might _only_ be wearing that huge, abomination of a t-shirt.

"_I feel guilty for feeling the way I do about someone else's wife. How is that even possible as I haven't done anything? I mean, am I a bad person because I live for the moments when you touch my back, or my fingers. It's not like you're really caressing me." Andrea looked imploringly into the camera. "Are you?"_

The screen resorted to the YouTube thumbnail. Miranda exhaled and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Oh, my God," she muttered.

"What?" Andrea whispered.

"Do you realize that I am, as of today, officially separated, soon to be divorced. Again."

"Yes. I'm…I was about to say I'm sorry, and I am, on several levels, but he doesn't deserve you. And you deserve so much more." Andrea's gaze travelled over Miranda's face, down her neck and seemed to get stuck on her naked shoulder. "You deserved to be loved."

"Loved." Miranda pondered the word, romantic love feeling almost alien to her these days. Still, the sentiment coming from Andrea made warmth erupt somewhere deep in her belly. "I suppose I opened up for such personal comments when I asked you to show me the clips."

"_Asked?_" Andrea's eyes widened. "Try steamrolled right over me."

"Oh, don't be ridiculous, Andrea, I did no such thing. A friendly request, that's how I see it."

"Hm. You would." Andrea hesitated for a moment. "How do you see all the touching, then? The small of my back, my hands. Why so often, all of a sudden."

Miranda wasn't prepared to answer that. She shied away from the current in her belly and regarded Andrea with what she hoped was cool detachment. "Show me another one."

"No." Andrea spoke wish sudden firmness. "First you give me something in return. I pour my heart and soul out, and the least you can do is to show me you're not indifferent, or at least that you understand."

"And how do you propose I do that?"

"You normally have no problem showing people what you want. So, no matter what your feelings are, just show me." Andrea grasped Miranda's hand. "Please."

Miranda didn't know why her throat suddenly constricted. She had sensed Andrea's eyes on her so many times before, and now she had to struggle to not allow the situation to overwhelm her. "I—I admit, touching you, guiding you, came naturally to me." She turned her hand under Andrea's, letting it rest palm to palm. "I found myself feeling quite possessive, which has never happened with an assistant, with _anybody_ before. It was quite disconcerting, but I still made sure people knew who you were leaving with. I will not apologize for that." She regarded Andrea, her chin raised in challenge.

"Oh."

"Yes. Well."

"So, what is the possessiveness based upon?" Andrea scooted closer and met Miranda's eyes.

"You're not the only one affected by the physical proximity." Miranda clenched her free hand. "You might not quite realize your own allure, Andrea."

A knock at the door made them both flinch and then Andrea stood. "That would be the food."

"Let them in while I choose the next clip." Miranda donned her reading glasses and scrolled among the thumbnails. A title jumped out at her and she let the cursor hover above it; '_That_ Night at the Townhouse.' Miranda blushed when she looked at the date when Andrea had posted this 'talk.' Yes, two weeks ago, when Stephen had been away, allegedly on a business trip. She knew exactly which evening Andrea meant, it could only be about that night when Andrea had arrived with the Book and found Miranda home alone and completely drunk.

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**To be continued in part 4**

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	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or original storyline of The Devil Wears Prada. I only use the basics to play. A lot.

Rating: G—NC-17, depending on chapter. Not going to specify each one.

Pairing: Andy/Miranda (MirAndy)

Summary: Paris. Fashion week. Miranda's life is falling to pieces around her. On top of everything else, Andrea turns out to be secretly involved in extracurricular activities that has nothing to do with Runway, and everything to do with Miranda.

A/N: No need to email me with copies of the original film manuscript as I know I've taken liberties with the 'Miranda in a grey robe opening up to Andy' scene. Some of the conversation is canon, but most of it is not, and it is a blend. A mix, if you will. Some might say, a royal mess.

On A Couch in Paris

A MirAndy fan fiction

By Gun Brooke

Part 4

Miranda stared at the plates as Andrea uncovered them. Her salad was there, as was her pot of coffee, and her favorite mineral water, Pellegrino. On Andrea's side of the table, orange juice, spaghetti Bolognese and, good Lord, a chocolate pie. How was it possible for this girl to be a size four if that was how she usually.

"I see that look. Don't even start," Andrea muttered. "I'm nervous and that makes me hungry."

"I wouldn't dream of judging your habits when it comes to eating." In fact the pie looked wonderful, but Miranda hadn't had dessert for real in more than ten years and was not about to have it now.

"Mm," Andrea said around the first fork of spaghetti, which she'd twirled expertly pushing the fork against a spoon. "This is freaking fantastic."

Miranda chewed mechanically through the Caesar salad, the chicken moist and tender, the dressing perfect, but she simply didn't care. Sipping the water, she observed Andrea cut a good size of the chocolate pie, add some whipped cream, and take a forkful. She closed her eyes, tipped her head back, and moaned. "Oh, God, this is good."

Miranda nearly moaned too at the sight of the nearly orgasmic look on Andrea's face. Was that how she looked in the throes of passion? Feeling her cheeks warm, she poured coffee and glared at her assistant. "Bring that…calorie enhanced mess with you. Time for the next 'talk'."

Andrea blinked and paled. "Already? I…oh, all right." She gathered her plate and joined Miranda on the couch. "I didn't think you believe in eating anywhere but at the table. The girls say they never get to bring food to their rooms."

"True. This is an exception."

"Sort of like when you eat at your desk, but don't like it when anyone else do the same at their work stations."

"Exactly." Miranda took another sip of the barely hot enough coffee. "I chose this one." She tapped her perfectly manicured index finger to the touchpad.

Andrea went even paler. "Oh, God."

"I can't wait to see what you had to say after that night." Miranda looked coldly at Andrea, knowing just from the sheer panic in the girl's eyes that no matter what the clip held, it was going to be…interesting.

"_God, oh, holy smokes. This is insane. I don't know what to say. I really don't." On-screen Andrea hid her face in her hands for a moment and then looked into the camera, her eyes huge. "I've never seen anyone…so vulnerable. As soon as I stepped inside with the dry-cleaning and the Book, I knew something was wrong. The house seemed empty at first, and I nearly left, but then I heard…I hear you cry out and then there was a crash. Upstairs."_

Miranda placed the coffee on the table carefully. Clenching her hands, she kept her gaze on the laptop. The pain in Andrea's eyes were evident.

_I called out your name. Twice. No reply. I was sure something was seriously wrong, so I I had to go upstairs, even if I knew I could be fired. I mean, once was bad enough, right? I knew if I were wrong this time, no Harry Potter rescue in the world would save me." Pulling off her jacket, Andrea sat on the bed and began untying her boots. "I found you in the upstairs living room. You were standing in the center of the floor, just standing there, looking down. On the far wall, some alcohol was running down the wallpaper, and sharp pieces of glass lay scattered beneath it. You turned suddenly, looking at me with fire in your eyes. 'What the hell are you doing here, Andrea?' you asked. I didn't know what to say at first. 'Delivering the book and the dry-cleaning as usual,' I replied eventually." Andrea sighed and unbuttoned her slacks and pushed them off her hips._

Miranda realized that she might be in more trouble with watching this particular video than she first thought. On-screen Andrea unbuttoned her shirt and tugged it off her shoulders and down her arms. Unable to avert her eyes, Miranda watched hungrily how Andrea revealed more and more of the skin she knew was so silky.

"_Then you told me to get lost. Well, not like that, of course, but in your acerbic, soft-spoken way. I would've left. Hell, I would've run out of there, if you hadn't had tears in your eyes. As soon as I took a step closer to reassure you, you backed up. That shocked me more than anything. The Miranda Priestly I know doesn't back away from anything, or anyone." Andrea unclasped her bra, then seemed to realized that perhaps it was not a good idea to appear naked on camera. She turned her back and let the bra drop onto the bed. She pulled yet another of the abysmal t-shirts that she seemed to have in an endless supply on._

"_You didn't stagger exactly, but you were not entirely steady on your feet and there was no way in hell I was going to leave you to fend for yourself when you were drunk enough to cry, back off, and wobble. I stepped up to you, well within your personal space, which I'm sure is against yet another Golden Rule. You would have taken a step back if I hadn't beaten you to it and taken your hands in mine. Oh, God, you have the softest hands. Naturally, I mean, you have access to the entire beauty industry, so why wouldn't you?" Andrea brought the camera with her to bed and seemed to prop it up on one of the pillow. _

"_I made you sit on the couch while I fetched some water from the bar area. You didn't want to drink, you even tried to pull rank, but I showed you I can be very stubborn. I knew you needed the fluid. So, you sipped the water, looking devastatingly gorgeous despite your inebriated state. I asked you what was going on, what was wrong. You stuck your nose in the air and refused to answer. I was so worried, I asked about the twins. This was clearly a tender spot, because your eyes well up again, immediately. I prodded carefully and after a few minutes I learned that the girls would go on an extended vacation with their father and be gone a whole month. God, my heart ached for you. I was so feeling your pain, I couldn't take it. I flung my arms around you."_

Miranda remembered. Yes, she'd been very drunk, this was true, but there was nothing wrong with her memory. Andrea did hug her, patting her back and running her hands all over Miranda's back in her attempt at comforting her. It had taken every ounce of Miranda's strength to push Andrea away. It seemed to be what the girl expected. She merely insisted on holding Miranda's hand.

"_I know. You're upset with something or someone, and I'm the closest, so I'm the one who gets the brunt of the resentment. It's okay. Really." I didn't let go. I think I knew if I kept the caress up, and held onto Miranda's hand, she was less likely to kill me." Andrea shook her head. "I told you: You're completely exhausted. Why don't you let me help you to bed?" She snorted, but looked unhappy. "The look on your face. I knew you were drunk, but clearly you weren't so drunk that you couldn't glare at me."_

Miranda became nervous. She had slightly foggier memories regarding what happened next. "Please, tell me you didn't," she murmured.

"I did. I had to." Andrea spoke through her teeth next to her. She put down her empty plate on the table next to the computer. "You needed help."

"_I helped you to your feet and into the master bedroom suite." Andrea moaned and threw herself back at the pillows on her bed. "Oh, my God. Had anyone said this morning I would be literally undressing my boss, holding you steady while you brushed her teeth forever, and then using a million different products to remove your makeup, I would have had them arrested. I mean, how many creams does one woman need? You really haven't lived until you've used stuff that cost a month salary on someone." She sighed and sat back up again. "I do admit that you have the skin to match it. Soft, velvety. I didn't mind applying the creams. In fact, had you let me, I would have slobbered that stuff all over your body."_

"Stuff?" Miranda said through stiff lips.

"Okay, fine. Goo. Gloopy substance." Andrea smiled carefully next to Miranda.

"Honestly."

"_Then I had to do what I've dreamt of, and yet feared would actually be the death of me. I had to virtually undress you and put you into bed. There was no way I was going to take off everything, so I had you keep your panties and camisole on. When I guided you to your bed, and that thing is enormous, I mean, king-size-extra-large, you actually held on to me. That blew my mind. I tucked you in, and something irresistible inside me made me push your hair, that lovely forelock of yours, from your face and kiss your forehead. I mean, if anything would get me fired, it would be that."_

"Oh, no." Miranda moaned.

"I'm sorry, Miranda." Andrea spoke fast, her voice breathless. "I shouldn't have done that."

"That's not it." Miranda watched the on-screen Andrea slip under the covers in her bed. She hugged one of her pillow closer and hid her face in it.

"_I wish I could've held you, Miranda," she said, her voice muffled by the pillow. "I wish I could've told you how wonderful, beautiful, and utterly incredible you are. I wish…I wish you here. Or I there." Her shoulders trembled. "Oh, God, how I wish that."_

The screen went black and then resorted to the normal YouTube setting.

Silence stretched for several seconds. Miranda sat slumped against the backrest, her hands clasped on her lap.

"What did you mean, then?" Andrea asked quietly.

"What are you talking about?" Miranda turned her head slowly.

"You said 'that's not it' and I don't understand what you mean."

"Ah. Yes. Well." Miranda sat up straight. "I just thought it highly unfair that you, being sober, have all those memories, and I don't."

Andrea swallowed hard. "I—I—do you mean when I kissed your forehead?"

"Everything after we entered the master suite is a blur to me."

"Everything?"

"Yes. Only scattered images in my mind."

"Oh."

"Exactly. Her you kiss me, undress me, caress me, and I remember very little. Hardly a fair exchange, don't you agree?" Miranda reached out and touched Andrea's jawline briefly. "You are gorgeous."

"I…what? I am?" It was obvious that she'd shocked Andrea, but Miranda couldn't understand why. Andrea was gorgeous."

"So, what do you suggest?" Andrea asked.

"Firstly, I want to see the last clip you made." Miranda didn't take her eyes off Andrea. The young woman grew flustered and pale repeatedly.

"Really? I'm not sure—that one is extra personal. In fact, I meant to delete that right after doing it. Time got away from me. I think I might even have blocked it out. Please, trust me when I say you do _not_ want to watch it."

"What's it called?" Miranda looked at the laptop screen. Squinting, she pulled her reading glasses back on. Her eyes grew wide. "Oh, God. Surely not."

"Afraid so." Andrea took a decorative pillow and held it in her arms.

Miranda stared at the words beneath the thumbnail of Andrea.

'_When I Wish My Hands Were Miranda's.'_

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**To be concluded in part 5.**

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	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or original storyline of The Devil Wears Prada. I only use the basics to play. A lot.

Rating: G—NC-17, depending on chapter. Not going to specify each one.

Pairing: Andy/Miranda (MirAndy)

Summary: Paris. Fashion week. Miranda's life is falling to pieces around her. On top of everything else, Andrea turns out to be secretly involved in extracurricular activities that has nothing to do with Runway, and everything to do with Miranda.

A/N: No need to email me with copies of the original film manuscript as I know I've taken liberties with the 'Miranda in a grey robe opening up to Andy' scene. Some of the conversation is canon, but most of it is not, and it is a blend. A mix, if you will. Some might say, a royal mess.

**On A Couch in Paris**

A MirAndy fan fiction

By Gun Brooke

**Part 5**

Miranda could see that Andrea was ready to bolt. This would simply not do as watching the clips together was the whole point. If Andrea wasn't here, it would be like eavesdropping, or spying. With the young woman present, they shared the experience and she could see firsthand what emotions Andrea harbored now. Why this was important was still obscured a little, but Miranda rarely second-guessed herself.

"I really wish you wouldn't watch this. It…I'm sure you can tell by the stupid title that it's deeply personal. Beyond personal."

"It has my name on it. The clip. Am I to understand that it has nothing to do with me?" Miranda regarded Andrea cautiously.

"Of course it does. Of course. It's just. I looked at it once. In part. I was cringing so badly and wanted to hide so I turned it off." Andrea gestured emphatically. "Can't you see? If I felt like that then, it will be mortifying now to show you. And you'll be horrified too."

"I disagree. I don't think you could horrify me if you tried, Andrea." Miranda realized that the girl was working herself into a full-blown panic attack and slid closer. "Listen to me. We are going to watch the clip. I'm not going to be horrified, and you're not going to be embarrassed. Don't be ashamed of your thoughts or actions, Andrea." She sighed. "I wish you would trust me."

Andrea's head snapped up, her eyes shiny from unshed tears. "I do trust you. I mean, I want to."

"It's all right. Trust can't be commanded. I realize this." She shifted again, this time she ended up so close to Andrea, their legs touched. She reached out and tucked a tress of hair behind Andrea's ear. "Please. Let's sit together like this and watch the clip. Hit pause whenever you need to. All right?"

"Damn. All right." Andrea trembled. "I'm so dead."

"Silly girl." Miranda tapped the touchpad and on-screen Andrea came into view. She was in an armchair and judging from the angle, the camera was on some support slightly to the side.

"_Days like today are the ones that make me question my sanity." Dressed in a white tank top and white boy briefs, Andrea leaned back in the chair and pulled her legs up, crossing them. "You want me to go to Paris with you. Not Emily who's ready to try even if she is in a cast and barely able to walk using her crutches. Perhaps you sense that I'd do just about anything to spend extra time with you, but I still feel…so gutted, that Emily's not going. She hates me more than ever, and despite the fact that she us one British pain in the ass, it bothers me that she does. I guess I have this urge to be well like by all. Nothing you would know anything about, right?" Andrea sighed. "No, that was mean. I'm sorry. In your private life you must have people who love you dearly. I mean, besides the girls. How can anyone be with you and not fall head over heels? I know I can't. I'm…I'm already there." Andrea covered her face with her hands and whimpered._

"_Sometimes I want to hide, and the next moment I want to call it from the roof tops. How insane is that? Told you. I'm losing my mind." She laughed. "You'd have a field day firing me after this crazy revelation. I can picture you so well. Looking at me over your reading glasses, raising that trademark eyebrow, and, oh yes, pursing your lips. I'd be toast."_

Miranda felt Andrea shift and tremble next to her. "Oh, God."

"Come here." Miranda put her arm around Andrea's shoulders, felt her go rigid, but pulled her close. "Shhh. Relax."

"_As I'm so screwed no matter what, I might as well tell you. You're in my heart and my dreams all the time." Andreas voice sank to a whisper, but every word was crystal clear. "Whether I'm awake or asleep, there you are. I wake up in the night, and can you imagine how fucked up this is…I turn to find you and, of course, I'm alone. I can actually smell you on my clothes and in my bed, and that's got to be another sign of me going insane right? Hallucinating?" She snorted unhappily. "And then of course, I'm such a wimp. I mean, I can't resist you, and you're not even here. I give in to you, to myself, and it is so wonderful while it lasts, and so damn painful afterward. When I'm so eager for your hands, I can feel them all over my body, and…then, when I've made myself come, all I feel is—cold."_

Andrea sobbed and suddenly she pressed her face into Miranda's neck. Hot tears coated her skin as Andrea hid against her. "Oh, please."

For the first time afraid that she was pushing Andrea too far, too fast, Miranda tapped the touchpad and paused the clip. She could tell that it had only begun, which in itself was a bit worrisome. What did Andrea have to address with her that took so long? "Andrea. Take a deep breath."

Andrea only shook her head, still in hiding. Miranda ran her fingers along Andrea's scalp and laced her fingers through the silken hair. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"What?"

"You have nothing to fear from me." Her eyes suddenly burning, Miranda pressed her lips to the top of Andrea's head. "Silly girl, you're not like anyone that I've ever met before. Your heart. You make me worry for you. That alone should tell you how—different, this all is. I really wish for you to watch this clip with me. There are ghosts between us now and we need to…vanquish them."

Andrea slowly raised her head and looked at Miranda, her eyes a little red and so large they seemed to fill Miranda's field of vision. "I thought you would hate me. Despise me. Definitely fire me." She raised a hesitant hand and cupped Miranda's cheek. "Are—are you saying you're not furious with me?"

"I'm saying I'm hypnotized by you. I'm saying I'm enthralled, mystified, and captivated by you. Furious doesn't enter the equation."

"Oh."

She held Andrea close, her lips only a breath away from kissing her.

"You smell amazing," Andrea whispered. "You are so beautiful."

Miranda pressed her lips to Andrea's, firmly and without hesitation. This was so right, so good, and she didn't want the kiss to stop. Slowly, slowly she parted her lips, letting the tip of her tongue slide against Andrea's lower lip.

"'Ng..." Andrea moaned and open her mouth beneath Miranda's.

Delirious now from the taste and scent of the woman in her arms, Miranda deepened the kiss and explored every part of Andrea's mouth. Tasting the chocolate she just had, Miranda felt her ferocious libido urge her on. She nibbled, bit and licked Andrea's lips, sucked on her tongue and when Andrea reciprocated, her arms tight around Miranda's neck, she moaned out loud, unable to stop herself.

Eventually they had to breathe. Miranda pulled back, but still held Andrea firmly. "Oh, my God," she said, drawing long, deep breaths.

"Yes." Andrea's head fell back, revealing the white, satin skin of her neck.

"So stunning." Miranda placed open-mouth kisses all along her jawline down to the indentation at the base of her throat. "Shall we continue?"

"Hm? Wh—Oh. The clip. All right," Andrea whispered.

Miranda clicked 'play'.

"_On these nights, my hands are your hands. I can swear your hands make mine move, take their place, do what I dream of you doing. They caress, pull, tug, roll, pinch, penetrate, pinch, prod, and it takes them hours sometimes to make me come."_

Miranda gasped. Her body became heavy instantly, her inside molten, and she tugged Andrea sideways over her lap. Holding the girl close, she looked wide eyed at the screen where Andrea pushed both hands into her boy briefs.

"_Like now. You're suddenly here. You can't wait and you're not about to let me wait either. You say you want me to know whom I belong to and you push your hands into my panties. And it feels so good…So very, very good." Her hips rolled under her hands and her head fell back. "Damn it, Miranda, you're not going to let me go very long without coming this time, are you?"_

"No. I'm not." Miranda held Andrea against her shoulder and pushed her skirt up, bunching it around her waist. Dressed in a La Perla thong, access was easy, but Miranda wanted nothing between them. She tugged sharply and the fabric came apart, baring Andrea's sex to her touch, and her eyes. Andrea cried out and one foot fell onto the floor, parting her legs effectively.

"That's it." Miranda slid her fingers along the drenched folds. "Perfect."

"_All I can do is simply let you, I have no choice," on-screen Andrea said, whimpering again. "When you are like this, you can do just about anything to me and all I do is take it, anyway you give it to me." She pushed off the boy briefs and kicked them out of sight. "I cannot say no to you"_

"Is it true?" Miranda bit into Andrea's earlobe.

"Yes." Andrea wrapped her arms around Miranda's neck. "It's true. It has always been the truth. I never meant for you to know. I never…never thought you'd…you'd…"

"But I do. And I'm here. And you're mine, aren't you, Andrea?"

"Oh, fuck. Yeah. I'm yours."

Miranda pressed a finger inside. "Oh, my, so tight. So wet. And this is mine too…isn't it?"

"Yes!"

"_Oh, Miranda. Oh!" Andrea bucked at her own hand, her legs spread, hanging over each armrest._

"God," Miranda moaned, feeling sweat pearl on her forehead. "You're so courageous, doing that, on camera, and… so stunning. I need to see this. I mean here. Now."

"What?" Andrea looked dazedly at Miranda. "N-now?"

"Yes." Miranda pushed Andrea sideways. "Armchair."

"Shit." Andrea's voice was barely audible. She rose and stumbled over to the armchair that sat in an angel to the loveseat. She sat down, her legs primly pressed together for a moment. One raised eyebrow later and she slowly parted them.

"Good." Miranda stood also and simply pulled her leisure wear suit off, together with her lingerie.

Andrea stared at her, running the tip of her tongue around full lips, and that together with the soft moans coming from the laptops, was enough for Miranda to relinquish any residual trepidation. Turning the armchair and the laptop so she could watch both version of Andrea, Miranda dropped a decorative pillow on the floor before kneeling.

"Spread your legs for me, darling," Miranda said huskily. "I can't wait to touch you. I need you, Andrea."

Andrea leaned forward and cupped her cheeks. "I need you too. I have needed you for so long."

"Then so be it." She kissed Andrea's mouth firmly. Pushing gently at her young lover—_lover, oh, my God_—Miranda took in the view. Looking so sweet and so wanton at the same time, Andrea regarded her with trust laced with an onset of nerves. "I'll take good care of you. After all, I have the manual to loving you right here." She pointed at the screen where Andrea was busy rubbing herself in small, fast circles. "Is that what you want, fast and a little rough?"

"No. Not tonight. I want it to last, Miranda. I don't want crash and burn."

"Slow and soft?"

"Yes."

Her eyes looked one more time at on-screen Andrea who now curled up in a fetal position around her own hands while calling out Miranda's name. Shuddering, Miranda saw the clip end and then she turned her gaze to Andrea. "Now where were we? Oh, yes, my hands. I'm going to make sure you know you never have to use yours instead of mine if you don't want to, ever again."

Andrea's eyes grew bigger. "M-Miranda…?"

"Shhh…it's all right." And it was. It was more than all right. It was very right. Miranda kissed her way down Andrea's shoulders, past her clavicle, and down her sternum. There she made a detour to the left nipple, taking it in her mouth, twirling her tongue around it, reveling in the taste and the texture. "Mm. Delicious." Next her mouth found the right one, kissing and licking it much the same way. Andrea was babbling incoherently under her breath.

Miranda followed the trembling surface that was Andrea's stomach, surprised, and quite titillated to discover a belly button piercing there. She tugged at the blue crystal gently with her teeth. "Naughty," Miranda murmured around the piece of custom jewelry. "How so very un-Ohioan of you."

"Sh-shut up, Miranda." Andrea shifted restlessly and pushed her fingers in Miranda's hair. "Please, oh God, please….yes, like so, like that, just like that…"

Parting the drenched folds before her, Miranda didn't hesitate. She craved the intimate taste of this young woman. She would put her mark on Andrea and make sure she wouldn't forgot about it. Andrea in turn cried out and arched as Miranda flattened her tongue against her clit. Licking and sucking, Miranda pushed Andrea toward orgasm.

Her own legs shook where she knelt on the pillow, and there was no way in hell she could hold off on her own bliss.

"I'm going to take my cue from you," she murmured against Andrea's wetness. "I'm going to use my own hand and pretend it's yours. Seems to work for you."

"Oh fuck, Miranda, have you any…_any_ idea, what that does to me? You're going to make me come. You are...you are…you are…" Pushing her hips up against Miranda's mouth, Andrea cried out, pressed one hand over her mouth, but the hoarse scream still seared through Miranda's body. She cupped her own sex and massaged her fingertips around her clit, humming and whimpering against Andrea.

"Oh, Miranda!" Arching, lifting both of them, Andrea convulsed against Miranda's mouth. She licked her through the orgasm, long, slow, highly enjoyable licks.

"You're mine." Miranda growled and began undulating against her hand.

"Oh, no. No way." Andrea surprised her by sliding off the armchair and ending up between Miranda's legs on the pillow. Pressing her hand against Miranda's swollen sex, she growled like a black panther, pushing two fingers inside Miranda as she came.

"Andrea, you… only you…you…oh yes…" Miranda came so hard, she nearly fell back against the coffee table. Only Andrea's quick reflexes saved her from crashing into the laptop when the pleasure coursed through her in wave after wave.

"Careful, darling, careful." Andrea was still out of breath, but held Miranda close as she found her bearings.

Once Miranda opened her eyes to focus on Andrea, she found they were back on the couch again. Her head was resting against Andrea's naked shoulder. Naked? When had Andrea lost the rest of her clothes? Miranda blinked into the muted light of the room.

"Miranda? I hate to break the mood, but don't you have a function to go to?"

"No, Andrea, why would I do that?" Miranda pulled Andrea closer and tugged at a blanket hanging over the armrest. She draped it over them. "I have everything I need right here."

"Oh." Andrea pressed her lips to a point beneath Miranda's left year, making her feel adored and worshipped. "I can't think of a single reason. So I should cancel it for you."

"Yes, please, Andrea."

"She says 'please'." Andrea pressed a hand to her chest. "You're toying with fire."

"Oh, how is that?" Miranda held on while trying to draw even, long breaths.

"It's kind of sexy to hear you express pleasantries…" Andrea laughed and squirmed as Miranda suddenly ran her blunt nails down her back. "Oh, you are not playing fair."

"And this surprises you?" Miranda chuckled.

"No, not really." Andrea hid her face against Miranda's neck. "Have you forgiven me?"

"For what?"

"For the vlogs?"

"Nothing to forgive."

"Really? For sure?" Andrea held Miranda closer.

"Yes. Really. Now, that doesn't mean you've off the hook, Andrea."

"Uh-oh. Now what? What do I have to do?"

Miranda ran her fingers up Andrea's back, tangling them in her hair. She pulled Andrea's head back and looked at her. There were definitely stars in those golden brown eyes tonight. "So much comes to mind. I have quite the list for you, but…" Miranda's voice suddenly gave in and she slapped her hand over her mouth when sobs wanted to break free. She would not cry. She. Would. Not. Cry.

"Miranda?" Andrea looked alarmed and tightened her grip around her. "Sweetie. Please. What's the matter? I'd do anything, I promise. Nothing is too much to ask. Just ask me anything. Oh, please don't cry."

"Not crying." But she was. Tears betrayed Miranda and she trembled in Andrea's arms…and suddenly it was oddly all right. The world didn't come to an end, Andrea didn't look at her with disdain. Clearly this young woman didn't find it pathetic to have a tousled, weep, middle-age woman sobbing on her shoulder. "I…wish for you." It wasn't what Miranda meant to say, but her subconscious seemed to take over and bring the words forward that needed to be said. "I wish…for you."

Andrea's face radiated love and affection like Miranda hadn't seen on another person's face in a long time, if ever. Certainly not directed at her with such abandon.

"I feel I should caution you in all sorts of ways," Miranda said and began sounding like her normal self, to her relief. "The thing is, you already know me fairly well."

"I do. I know parts of you really well, and the parts I don't know about, I look forward to learning about. I just hope you won't be disappointed in me. I mean, I have some quirky habits."

Gazing at Andrea with tenderness erupting in her chest, Miranda fought to remain matter of fact. "I'm sure I'll have moments when I question my sanity, just like you did in the last vlog."

"I was sure I was losing it." Andrea blushed, a lovely shade of pink. "I felt my heart break a little every day, and when I made that last vlog, I had promised myself it would be the last. I'll delete them all now."

"Wait. Don't do it just like that. Let's download them, put them on a flash drive and put it in my safe. I think they're too special to just erase." Caressing Andrea, Miranda wrapped the blankets closer. "Now I just want to sit here with you and…relax. You can make my excuses for being absent tonight in a bit. I just don't want to let go of you…just yet."

"All right." Andrea smiled and leaned her head against Miranda's shoulder. "I love being in your arms like this."

"You feel wonderful to hold."

Silence reigned for a while and Miranda felt herself almost nod off a few times. She didn't want to fall asleep. She wanted to be wide awake, enjoy holding the wondrous young woman who, miracles of miracles, cared for her, perhaps even loved her. Soon enough, mayhem was going to break out when they returned to the US. She was going to have to ask a lot of Andrea. Secrecy. Half-truths and downright lies.

She heard Andrea's voice imploring from earlier. _"I'd do anything, I promise. Nothing is too much to ask. Just ask me anything."_

Miranda cupped Andrea's chin and tipped her head back. Studying the familiar face, the brilliant smile, she shook her head. "What you see in me, I'll never know. "

"Mm. Gorgeous." Andrea nuzzled her cheek. "I can name a list long as my arm with things I see in you."

"Honestly." Miranda had to smile. She kissed Andrea tenderly, reveling in the taste and the texture of her mouth. Holding Andrea even closer, she began to hope that they stood a chance; that for once in her life, when it comes to her personal life, things might work out this time.

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**THE END**

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End file.
